


Eternal Order

by indiefic



Series: Eternal Order [1]
Category: Snowpiercer (2013)
Genre: 1000 people in a metal box, Anna Gilliam is pretty much Peggy Carter, F/M, Mentions of mutilation, baby Edgar, mentions of cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 23:58:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6305494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiefic/pseuds/indiefic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starts shortly after the world freezes.  Curtis tries to come to terms with the things he's done and find a place where he fits in the new world.  Anna Gilliam is an original character very much inspired by the MCU's Peggy Carter.  This is a remix of my other Snowpiercer series, Balance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eternal Order

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Balance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4792604) by [indiefic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiefic/pseuds/indiefic). 



Curtis stared dumbly at the old man, watching as he sawed through withered muscle and brittle bone.  It seemed to go on forever, the only sound in the rattling hell was the sound of the dull blade against flesh.  When the limb finally fell to the filthy car floor, everyone stared in shocked silence.  

 

The old man staggered, picked it up, and shoved it at them - Curtis, Beck, Wallace and the dozen others who followed them.  The old man thrust the dripping appendage at them, teeth bared.  

 

“Eat this,” the old man said, his voice hoarse, and less angry than it should have been.  He was swaying, from more than the motion of the train, fighting to hold on to consciousness.  “Eat this if you’re so hungry.  But leave the baby.”

 

Wallace took the arm, turning away as the rest of their group did the same thing, retreating.  Curtis stood where he was, unable to move, the squalling child clutched to his chest as he watched the old man.  The old man was the only one who had dared to stand up to the group, the only one who spoke for mercy in the face of this hellish new existence.  

 

A girl stepped forward, a young woman, close to Curtis’s own age.  He’d seen her before.  He often watched her from a fascinated distance.  Her hair and eyes were dark, her clothes as filthy as everyone else’s.  He’d recognize her anywhere.   _ Anna _ .  She steadied the old man’s shoulder, whispering to him.  Turning, she nodded to a group of people who stood watching.  They stepped forward, helping the old man, binding his wound.  

 

Anna turned to Curtis then, her expression fierce, eyes flashing.  She watched him carefully, clearly distrustful.  She looked angry and Curtis wasn’t about to discount how far that could take someone in a fight, but she was physically no match for him.  She was starving like everyone else, dirty and pale, but she had little fear.  In that moment, some part of him loved her for that fearless ferocity, even if it was directed at him.  

 

Stepping toward Curtis, she grabbed the child, tugging it out of Curtis’s unresisting grip.  He watched as she melted back into the sea of people with the old man, the baby in her arms.

 

* * *

 

Curtis sat, wedged against the side of the car, knees drawn up, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.  He hadn’t returned to the little camp that he helped claim over the last few weeks, ever since Wilford’s soldiers confiscated everyone’s belongings.  He, and the others like him - young, strong, bloodthirsty - had taken whatever they found, whatever caught their eye.  They shoved families aside, sent the weak and sick scattering for cover.  They took.  They maimed.  They killed.  

 

Curtis hadn’t questioned their tactics, hadn’t allowed himself to question.

 

Not until today.

 

He killed that woman.  Murdered her.  Because she wouldn’t give them her baby.  Curtis killed her.  And he would have killed the baby too.  Killed it and eaten it.  Because he knew that babies tasted best.

 

He wept bitterly, covering his head with his arms, hating himself more than he had ever hated anything.

 

He would have killed that baby.  But the old man stepped forward.  And offered another solution.  One infinitely more selfless.

 

Curtis ran his hand over his head, rocking back and forth in a vain attempt to comfort himself.  How did the entire fucking world fall apart so completely?  Curtis wasn’t a bad guy.  He hadn’t been a bad guy.  He had a family.  He went to school.  He played football and ran track.  And today he’d murdered a woman for daring to try and stop him from eating her child.

 

How had this happened?  It had only been a matter of weeks.  Everything beyond the train was gone.  Everyone was gone.  Curtis had no idea what happened to his parents, his brother, his grandparents, his friends, teachers, neighbors.  They were gone.  Frozen.  Dead.  

 

The fact that he’d made it onto the train was a miracle.  The CW7 was supposed to take effect slowly, and only have a minimal impact.  It threw the entire world into an ice age in a matter of days.  Curtis had been with friends when it hit the east coast.  He’d been unable to get home, searching for shelter.  There was a crowd, mentions of Wilford’s train.  Curtis had seen the ads, he knew what the train was, he knew it was built to withstand whatever CW7 would bring.  So he followed.  The station was chaos, a free for all, bodies pushing and shoving, people screaming, a contest for survival.  He’d been one of the last to shoulder his way onto the train and then the gates were sealed.  Just like his fate.

 

A thousand bodies crammed into four steel cars. At first, it was silence, shock, as people tried to come to terms with what had happened.  They were a collection of strangers from all walks of life.  Days passed.  And then the soldiers came.  And they confiscated everything that hadn’t been hidden - and hidden well.  The soldiers left them in the dark and the cold, starving, thirsty.  

 

Madness set in.

 

Curtis hadn’t known anyone on the train, but like attracted like.  He found others like himself, young men, now abandoned to the whims of fate, in a world where only the strong would survive.  They banded together into a pack.  No one dared to oppose them.  Any resistance was met with fists and teeth and knives. 

 

Curtis’s pack weren’t the first to resort to eating people.  Others had done it before them, opportunistically butchered the dead.  But when Curtis and the pack saw what they were doing, that there was food to be had, they took and were full for the first time in weeks.  It wasn’t long after that they started killing for food.  And even shorter still, before they realized they had preferences for who tasted best.

 

They devolved into animals, existing on the most basic and brutal instincts.  Curtis was disgusted to realize that he was good at it.  Good at killing.  Good at leading the pack, singling out the weak.  

 

Curtis felt like it would have gone on forever, until every last person was prey or predator.  

 

If it hadn’t been for the old man.

 

Someone kicked Curtis’s leg and he looked up at her.  Penny.  At least that was what they called her.  Curtis had no idea what her real name was.  Her strawberry blonde hair was sticking up in spiky tufts and there was blood on her cheek, presumably not her own.  She had been with Curtis for weeks.  But at the moment, Curtis couldn’t stomach to look at anything that reminded him of his previous behavior.  He turned away, staring blindly down the car toward the tail, where they took the old man.

 

Penny held out her hand and Curtis ignored her.  She shrugged and turned away.  He knew that was the end of it.  She would find someone else.  It was done.  

 

* * *

 

It started slowly at first.  The old man’s gesture was largely symbolic, barely enough to feed one of Curtis’s former pack.  But others came forward, offering of themselves.  Some gave limbs.  Some gave everything.  In those cases, the body was shared, as well as any possessions.  One sacrifice to ease the way of many others.  Everyone was still starving, but it was enough to take the edge off.  And offered feely, it was enough to remind them of human charity and sacrifice.  Humility.  Compassion.

 

It was the third week when Curtis finally drove the knife into his own forearm.  The pain was incredible.  He sawed back and forth, screaming the entire time, feeling the blade hit bone.  But he couldn’t do it.  He stopped, the blade still wedged in his arm, crumbling to the floor of the car, sobbing, shaking, weak and broken.

 

He wasn’t the first to try and fail.  But that didn’t matter to him.  He knew he owed a greater debt than most.  And he was too cowardly to pay.

 

He lay there for hours when, finally, two men gathered near.  They removed the blade and bound his wound.  They dragged him out of the way, making a quiet spot for him under one of the bunks reserved for families.  Curtis sobbed harder, there in the dingy darkness.  There was no reason people should help him, no reason they should trust him so near to the people he terrorized.  But they did.  People checked on him, people he didn’t know, people he may have hurt.  They tended to his wound and brought him what little food they could spare.  

 

Despite their efforts, the wound festered.  Curtis grew sick and feverish.  He dreamed of Anna, snatching the baby from his arms, her eyes glaring at him.  He was dimly aware of them taking him back, to the very tail.  He woke - it could have been days later.  He was lying on a mattress.  Where did they find a mattress?  His wound had been cleaned and re-wrapped.  The old man was there, watching him with kind eyes.

 

“Good morning,” the old man said.  “We’ve never had a proper introduction.  My name is Gillam.  What should I call you?”

 

Curtis blinked.  He considered lying, considered trying to hide who and what he was, but there didn’t seem to be any point.  “Curtis,” he said.  “Curtis Everett.”

 

“Good to meet you, Curtis Everett,” the old man said.  He offered Curtis a cup.  “Tea?”

 

Curtis had no idea where Gilliam got tea, or if that was indeed what it was.  He pushed himself into a sitting position and took the cup with his good hand, taking a careful sip.  It didn’t taste great, but it was clean liquid and that was hard to come by.

 

“The benevolent Wilford saw fit to give us water rations while you were insensible,” Gilliam said bitterly.  “It’s enough to remind us that we are beholden to him for our lives, but not good for much else.  A cup of tea here and there.”

 

Curtis sat there, staring into the cup, feeling like the eternal fraud.  “You know who I am,” he said quietly.

 

“Curtis Everett, by your own admission,” Gilliam said.  Curtis looked up and met his gaze.  Gilliam gave him a sad smile.  “Beyond that, I do not know who you are.  I’d venture to guess you don’t know yourself right now.”  

 

Gilliam took off his glasses, sighing.  “Humanity wasn’t meant to live like this Curtis,” he said quietly.  “Our entire species is teetering on the very edge of existence.  Every bit of our intellect and compassion are pushed to the breaking point.  The souls on this train, we’re all that’s left.  And the only things that matter are today and tomorrow.”

 

It wasn’t absolution, but it was almost better.  Curtis didn’t forgive himself.  He didn’t think that would ever be possible.  But he found strength and purpose in Gilliam’s words.  Today and tomorrow.  He could concentrate on that.  He could make a difference in that limited scope.

 

There was a curtain that separated Gilliam’s little space from the rest of the tail and it was pushed aside.  Anna stepped inside.  Her eyes immediately went to Gilliam and then lighted on Curtis.  When she saw Curtis, he could almost see her bristle.  She still had the baby, wrapped against her chest in a makeshift sling.  Curtis immediately stared down at the floor of the car, flushing.

 

“That was  _ your  _ tea, Father,” she said, her voice strong and crisp, her accent English, like Gilliam’s. Curtis had never heard her speak.  “You need to keep up your strength.”

 

Gilliam sighed.  “Curtis,” he said, “this is my daughter, Anna.  She worries too much about a crazy old man.”

 

Curtis glanced up at Anna and she glared back, chin out, defiant.  Curtis was struck anew by the force of personality she seemed to exude.  He knew she was his age, but she seemed older, hardened.  Even beneath the grime of the tail section, she was beautiful, dark hair and eyes, perfect pale skin.  She looked at Gilliam and shook her head in disapproval, turning, pulling the curtain shut in her wake.

 

Gilliam sighed again.  “Anna does not agree with my methods,” he said quietly, looking at his arm, where it abruptly ended in a stump, just above the elbow.  

 

Curtis frowned, looking at him.  “Do you regret it?” he asked.

 

Gilliam shook his head.  “I am an old man, Curtis,” he said.  “There is more value in my gesture than there was in my arm.”

 

Curtis stared down at his own arm, at the bandage covering his failed attempt to contribute in the same way.

 

Gilliam reached out with his remaining hand and placed it on Curtis’s shoulder.  “You are a young man, Curtis,” he said.  “Strong.  It is better to have two arms, than a grand gesture.  How can you hold a woman if you don’t have two arms?”

 

Curtis looked up, meeting Gilliam’s gaze.  The old man gave him a wry smile.

 

* * *

 

Curtis’s arm healed slowly, but surely.  He doubted the last two fingers of his left hand would ever work properly again.  The water rations eased life in the tail.  It didn’t fix anything.  But it made things slightly less dire.  Several days later, Wilford’s soldiers delivered the first batch of protein blocks.  It was like a miracle. 

 

The protein blocks looked awful and tasted worse.  But they were filling and they were rationed out like clockwork.  Everyone finally knew where and when their next meal would arrive.  It was shocking how much humanity returned to the tail with that one change.

 

The water and the protein blocks allowed people to concentrate on more than simply surviving.  Order started to rise from the chaos.  Gilliam became the voice of reason for the entire tail section.  He had his trusted inner circle, McGregor, Dow, Yang, Soto and a handful of others.  They found volunteers and got to work on improvement projects.  Curtis spent a lot of time with McGregor’s crew, reconfiguring the bunks so that they reached all the way to the ceiling.  Three towering rows of bunks in two of the tail section’s four cars.  The other two cars were much more open, more space for people to mill around.

 

Occasionally, Curtis saw some of the pack.  A few of them, like him, had broken away, were trying to contribute.  But most of them were still thugs, still preying on the weak, cornering them away from Gilliam’s watchful eyes and taking everything they could.

 

* * *

 

“He needs new clothes,” Anna said, arms crossed over her chest as she stared down at her father.

 

Gilliam shrugged.  “I can’t force clothes to appear out of thin air, Anna,” he said.  “What would you have me do?”

 

“Tell your ... followers,” she said the word like it left a bad taste in her mouth.  It hadn’t escaped Curtis’s attention that Anna was not in her father’s inner circle.  In fact, she didn’t seem to be particularly aligned with him at all.  Anna tended to be openly hostile to Gilliam.  And while Gilliam didn’t respond in kind, he also didn’t make things easy for Anna.  

 

Curtis was trying as hard as he could to be unobtrusive, as he dug around in boxes of parts in Gilliam’s space.  Anna seemed annoyed that he was there, but unwilling to wait for another time to discuss matters with her father.

 

“I can’t order them to turn over baby clothes,” Gilliam said wearily.

 

“You can,” Anna bit back, “you choose not to.  Edgar’s going to catch his death.  He’s outgrown everything.”

 

“Edgar?” Gilliam said, brow arched.

 

“No one knows what his name was,” Anna said, turning to look at Curtis, “since his mother never told anyone before she was murdered.”

 

Curtis flushed, looking at the ground.

 

“So we named him Edgar, after Edgar Rice Burroughs.”

 

“Tarzan?” Gilliam asked dryly.

 

“Yes,” Anna said darkly, “a babe among the savage animals.”

 

Gilliam simply frowned and shook his head.  Anna cursed under her breath, stalking away.  Gilliam growled in frustration and tossed the cup he’d been holding against the side of the train.  Given that he hadn’t thrown it hard, and the cup was metal, no damage was done.

 

“Did Anna know her?” Curtis asked.  “Edgar’s mother?”

 

“No,” Gilliam said quietly.  “Anna’s simply angry, mostly at me, and she’s taking it out on everyone.  You more than most, Curtis.  I’m not sure that says anything reassuring about her personality.  You’re the one person who never rises to her bait.”

 

Curtis looked at Gilliam, holding his gaze.  “You and Anna weren’t close ... before?”

 

“Close?” Gilliam said, laughing mirthlessly.  “No.  We were not.”  He sighed, resting his head back against the wall of the car.  “Her mother was so beautiful.  And young.  Far too young for me.  I lost my head.  The marriage was over by the time Anna was born.  Her mother took her when she left.  I saw her a handful of times over the years.  My ex-wife remarried well.  Her subsequent husbands had more than enough funds at their disposal to keep me out of the picture.”

 

“But she was with you,” Curtis said, “when you boarded.”

 

“She was,” Gilliam agreed.  “Quite by accident.  Though I doubt she would thank me for saving her.  I’m sure she thinks all I did was force her into this living hell.”  He sighs.  “Maybe she’s right.  But I am so desperately thankful she’s here.  Even if she hates me for it.  She’s the most precious thing in the world to me.”

 

Curtis nodded and went back to looking for parts.

 

* * *

 

The knife wasn’t worth much, but it was the one possession Curtis owned aside from the clothes on his back.  The knife, plus half a protein block, was enough to trade for a man’s shirt.  And the man’s shirt he was able to trade for several pieces of children’s clothing.  It garnered him some weird looks, but Curtis ignored them.  He had no idea if the clothes would fit Edgar, but the kids who outgrew them were much larger than him, so Curtis figured they should work.

 

He watched for a few days, trying to find a time when Anna was mostly alone.  Truthfully, no one was ever alone now.  But the constant contact beget its own new code of social contact.  There was a lot of deliberate ignoring in the tail section.

 

It was late when he saw Anna, sitting on the bunk she shared with two other young women.  One of the other girls, Mai, was pregnant.  Curtis didn’t know how any of them managed to sleep, crammed together like that, but space was definitely at a premium.  

 

Edgar wasn’t with Anna.  Curtis knew that there were several women with young children who helped Anna with Edgar.  Curtis assumed the toddler must be with them.  Steeling his nerve, Curtis climbed up the bunks until he was level with her.

 

She looked over at him and scowled.  “What do you want?” she demanded.

 

Curtis shook his head.  “I don’t want anything,” he said.   He reached for the bundle of clothes.  “This is for him,” he said.  “The kid.  Edgar.”  He turned before she could say anything and quickly descended, retreating to the other car, where his bunk was.  He suspected Anna probably wanted to throw the clothes at him, spit in his face.  But he knew as well as she did that she couldn’t afford that.  Not now.  Edgar needed clothes.  Now he had them.

 

* * *

 

The next time Curtis saw Edgar, the kid was wearing the new clothes and his lips no longer had a blue tinge.  It wasn’t much, but it made Curtis feel marginally better.  Like he was contributing on some level, making reparations.

 

McGregor started on a new project, to siphon water off Wilford’s designated ration point.  It was delicate work, and dangerous.  If the soldiers caught them, they’d beat the shit out of them, or take limbs.  

 

Curtis spent endless days working, doing everything from playing lookout to hacking through steel with dull blades.  His hands and arms were covered with wounds from jagged metal by the time they were done, but it worked.  They now had a way to access limited water outside of Wilford’s designated times.  Curtis figured it did more for morale than anything else.

 

He was exhausted, headed back to his bunk when there was a scuffle ahead.  It was common enough.  It could be a couple wailing on each other, a scrap over a protein block, anything really.  He hopped up on a nearby bunk to get a better view and he saw one Anna’s friends, a girl named Osha.  One of Curtis’s old pack had Osha by the throat, pinned against a bunk.

 

Curtis vaulted over rows of people in front of him, crashing into Wallace, sending him spinning away from the girl.  Curtis glanced back to make sure she was okay and noticed Anna was there too.  What the fuck was going on?

 

“Those bitches took our blankets!” Wallace raged, shoving at Curtis.

 

Curtis glanced over his shoulder.  Anna was giving Wallace a nasty smile, all teeth, like a shark.  “We found them,” she taunted. “Isn’t that how your rules work? You find something you want, you take it?”

 

Wallace snarled and lunged for Anna.  Curtis shoved him backward, smashing his head into one of the bunks.  Wallace wasn’t a lightweight, but he had it easy.  These days, he and the pack ruled mostly by intimidation.  They rarely broke a sweat.  In contrast, Curtis had spent weeks doing backbreaking labor.  And as part of McGregor’s crew, Curtis rated more protein blocks than others.  He handled Wallace easily.  When he was finally satisfied that Wallace would stay down, he turned.  Anna and the girl were gone, as were the blankets.  Curtis wasn’t even shocked.

 

* * *

 

Curtis climbed up the bunks, resting his arms against the newly liberated blankets, looking at Anna.  “What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

 

She looked at him and then away.  But it wasn’t the typical look of disgust that he got from her.  He could tell she was proud of herself.  

 

Not that he would admit it, but he was proud of her too.  She wasn’t afraid of anything.  Curtis had no idea what that was like.  He felt like he was afraid of everything - well, mostly afraid of himself.  Of the things he was capable of.  Curtis sighed, scrubbing his hand across his head.  “Look,” he said, “Wallace holds a grudge.  Be careful.  If he corners you, he’s going to try and get even.”

 

“I don’t need you to protect me,” she snapped.

 

“I didn’t say I was going to protect you,” he countered.  “I said don’t let Wallace catch you alone.  Protect yourself.”

 

She pursed her lips at him, obviously thinking about something.  Finally, she sighed and scooted back against the far end of the bunk, making room.  Curtis wasn’t sure what to think.  It wasn’t precisely an invitation.  But it was an opportunity.  From Anna.  She’d barely spoken a civil word to him since they met, but here she was, watching him, waiting to see what he would do.  

 

He half expected that if he crawled into the bunk, she’d kick him and send him plummeting to the fifteen feet to the floor.  This, however, was not the first idiotic decision Curtis had made in his life.  He’d always had more enthusiasm than sense.  That’s what his father always said.

 

Carefully, Curtis climbed into the bunk, sitting cross legged facing her, hunching forward so his head didn’t knock against the bottom of the overhead bunk.  They sat there, not really looking at each other.

 

“How’s the kid?” Curtis asked.  

 

Anna watched him for a long moment.  “Edgar’s better,” she said.  “Now that he’s not freezing all the time.”  She swallowed thickly.  “Thank you.”

 

Curtis shrugged, looking away.  What could he say?  He traded a few of his things to get the kid some clothes.  It hardly made up for killing his mother.

 

Curtis opened his mouth, intending to say ... something.  But when he turned back to Anna, she was so close.  He sat there, stunned as she leaned forward, kissing him.  For several heartbeats, all he could do was sit there, trying to accept the fact that Anna was pressing her lips against his.  Then he sighed and leaned into it.

 

Her lips were so soft and they moved gently against his own.  He lifted his hand, tracing lightly against the edge of her jaw with his fingertips.  She made a yearning sound and pressed closer, deepening the kiss.  Without breaking away, she grabbed the edge of the curtain and pulled it across the bunk, giving them as much privacy as was possible.

 

Curtis touched her in earnest then, his hands skimming down her sides, trying to pull her closer.  She broke off the kiss, shaking her head.  He was afraid it was over, but her hand came up, fisting in the material of his shirt, urging Curtis to stretch out with her.  

 

He went willingly, but he was afraid to touch her somewhere that she didn’t want to be touched.  Anna was mercurial in the best of circumstances and until this moment, he hadn’t dared dream she might have some interest in him.  He didn’t want to fuck this up.

 

“What do you - “ Curtis started.

 

“Shut up,” Anna snapped, tugging at his shirt.

 

Curtis shut up and pulled his shirt over his head.  They were both naked in short order.  Jesus she was beautiful.  Curtis had spent quite a few nights fantasizing about what Anna looked like under her clothes, and the reality was more than he’d dreamed.  She was stunning.  And aggressive.  Holy hell, she had no trouble hissing orders, shoving him down her body where she wanted him.  

 

Curtis actually appreciated how demanding she was.  It removed any guesswork.  She told him exactly what she wanted and how.  He did his best to comply.  He figured he must be doing okay since she seemed to be enjoying herself quite a bit, if the nail gouges in his scalp and the way she was pulling his hair were anything to go by.  She bit back a cry, her body trembling as she pulled his hair, hard.  He lifted his head and looked at her, watching her trying to catch her breath.  She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, flushed and languid, her body slick with perspiration.

 

He figured then she’d kick him out, but she didn’t.  She watched him for a long moment and then rolled onto her side, rummaging in a worn canvas bag near her head.  She pulled out a foil packet and pressed it into his hand.  He didn’t know where the hell she found a rubber, but he wasn’t going to argue.  He wasted no time tearing the packet open and slipping it on.

 

She was surprisingly gentle as she reached down, cupping his cheek and urging him back up to her.  She kissed him deeply, tasting herself on him as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

 

He wanted to go slow, to savor it, but she had other ideas.  She started whispering things in his ear,  _ Jesus _ .  Things she wanted to do to him.  Things she wanted him to do to her.  In short order, he was driving into her forcefully, rushing toward his own climax.  

 

“Yes,” she hissed, tightening around him, before she bit his shoulder, hard.  It was too much and he drove into her one final time.  He slumped over onto his side, next to her, breathing hard.  She was breathing hard too, blinking up at the bunk overhead, raking a hand through her hair.

 

She looked over at him and narrowed her eyes, pushing herself up on her elbows.  Curtis removed the condom, wondering if there was a way to reuse it.  They reused everything else.  And he sure as hell wanted to have sex with her again.  

 

Curtis opened his mouth to say something, but she shoved the rest of his clothes against his chest and started getting dressed.  Curtis managed to get his trousers on.  The minute Anna was decent, she opened the curtain again and pushed him out.  He barely had time to grab a handhold and avoid a short fall followed by a hard landing.  As it was, he retreated with as much dignity as possible - which really wasn’t much.  He glanced back up at Anna’s bunk.  She wasn’t looking at him.  Shaking his head, Curtis limped to his own bunk, wondering what the hell just happened.

 

Brief and random sexual encounters were hardly unique in this rattling hell.  It was one of the few releases still available, though Curtis had heard murmurings about some people snorting industrial waste.  He’d take a casual hookup any day of the week over that.  

 

Though he hadn’t indulged in any casual sex.  Not since before his confrontation with Gilliam.

 

Curtis was with Penny at first, for a brief time.  But she was long gone and he wasn’t particularly disappointed.  She’d been convenient, attractive.  But he hadn’t been drawn to her, not the way he was drawn to Anna.  Which was sort of a shame because Penny was a hell of a lot more accommodating than Anna.

 

After that awful confrontation with Gilliam weeks and weeks ago, Curtis had been celibate.  He’d been propositioned a few times, but he hadn’t taken anybody up on the offers.  He wasn’t sure if he was trying to punish himself or not.  All he knew was that however much his body wanted a release, the rest of him wasn’t into it.

 

At least, not until it was Anna who propositioned him.  

 

He was  _ very _ into that.  

 

Sex with Anna probably fell into the category of masochistic behavior.  He didn’t care.  He wondered if she made a habit of throwing men down on her bunk and having her way.  He truly wouldn’t be shocked if she did.  But he didn’t like the idea.

* * *

 

Curtis was sound asleep when the curtain to his bunk was ripped open.  He blinked against the light as Anna shoved Edgar at him.  “Watch him,” she said.  She looked Curtis over.  “And don’t eat him.”

 

Curtis blinked at her, still half asleep.  She was already crawling back down to the floor when he thought to reply, “I’m not going to eat Edgar.”

 

The little boy blinked at Curtis, far more curious than afraid.  This was the first time that Curtis had been face to face with the kid since the day he wrenched him out of his mother’s grip.  He looked away.  Curtis craned his head out of the bunk, trying to see where Anna went, but she was gone.  

 

Sighing, he gathered Edgar up and climbed down to the floor.  He still needed to finish taking an inventory of all the steel fittings that were stored in Gilliam’s space.  And that was probably as good a place as any to try and corral a toddler.

 

* * *

 

“Babysitting?” Gilliam asked, brows raised as Curtis pushed aside his curtain, holding Edgar.

 

“Uh, looks like,” Curtis said.  He really didn’t want to try and explain.  Mostly because he couldn’t explain.  He didn’t know any more than Gilliam.  All he knew was that Anna had dumped Edgar with him.  Curtis could hazard a guess that whatever Anna was doing, Curtis wouldn’t like it.  But that didn’t exactly narrow down the options at all.  In Curtis’s opinion, Anna took a lot of unnecessary risks.  But she hadn’t asked for his opinion.  He doubted she ever would.

 

“Do you like mean women, Curtis?” Gilliam asked, not unkindly.

 

Curtis considered the question.  “ _ A _ .”

 

Gilliam arched a brow in question.

 

“I like _ a _ mean woman,” Curtis said.  “It’s not a pattern.  Not women.”

 

Gilliam frowned sympathetically at him, shaking his head.

 

Curtis shared his protein block with Edgar as the little boy “helped” him take inventory.  With help like this, it would take Curtis years to finish.  Edgar was shockingly trusting, which bothered Curtis.  He appreciated the irony.  It was doubtful anyone on the train had ever posed as much of a threat to Edgar as Curtis had.  For his part, Edgar was completely without fear.  He was jovial and affectionate, hugging Curtis with no provocation.  Curtis found himself weirdly protective of the little boy.  

 

Hours in, the inventory was no closer to being done.  McGregor was going to be pissed.  Gilliam’s advisors came and went throughout the day.  Finally, Anna materialized.  She scooped Edgar into her arms and then gave Curtis an expectant look.  Not knowing what else to do, he rose to his feet and followed her forward.

 

She checked over Edgar as she walked, pressing a hard kiss to his chubby little cheek.  Edgar giggled.  Curtis just watched.  The way Anna interacted with Edgar was so at odds with how she interacted with everyone else on the train.  Curtis wasn’t sure what to make of it.

 

She stopped at the bunk of a woman, Kim, who had two small children, one older and one younger than Edgar.  They spoke quietly and Anna left Edgar with her.  She turned, looking over her shoulder at Curtis and then reached out, grabbing his hand and pulling him along.  He followed her back to his own bunk, crawling in after her, pulling the curtain closed.  

 

It wasn’t as frantic as last time.  Anna wasn’t as demanding.  They both explored, taking their time, using hands and mouths so that the single rubber Anna produced was rationed until neither of them could wait any longer.  

 

Curtis had thought perhaps the novelty of having sex with her would have waned, but it didn’t.  He still wanted her so intensely he could just barely stand it.  When they were both exhausted, Anna curled against him, pulling a blanket over both of them.  Curtis looked at the blanket.  It was one of the ones Anna stole from Wallace.  Curtis wasn’t sure what to make of that, but he wasn’t going to question it.  If Anna wanted to sleep in his bunk, that was fine.

 

Curtis was still mostly asleep when the curtain was pulled open.  Anna sat up, talking to someone in hushed tones.  She pulled her shirt on over her head and pressed Curtis’s trousers against his chest.  He pulled them on, confused.  It was late, really late.

 

“Go back to sleep,” Anna told him.  

 

Curtis didn’t need to be told twice.  He was only dimly aware of Anna settling Edgar between them.

 

* * *

 

Curtis woke up to Edgar’s feet in his face.  And while that was not pleasant, the sight of Anna still asleep in Curtis’s bunk, was.  He managed to reposition Edgar without waking him up and then Curtis drifted back to sleep.

 

When he woke again, Edgar and Anna were both awake.  Edgar was sitting up and Anna was playing with him.  Curtis watched her smiling and cooing at the kid.  “Do you like kids?” he asked, feeling like an idiot, because clearly she did.  He braced for some scathing reply.

 

Anna just looked at him and shrugged, turning her attention back to Edgar.  “My younger sister is about the same age as Edgar,” she said quietly.  “Though I suppose she’s dead now.”  She looked at Curtis.  “What about you?  You have family?”

 

Curtis nodded.  “Parents, a brother.”

 

“But not here with you?” she prompted.

 

He shook his head.  “Nah,” he said quietly.  “I was out when it started.  The freeze.  Couldn’t get back home.  There was a mob headed to the station.  I followed.  I talked to my mom, just before I boarded.  She told me to go.  But ... nothing after that.”

 

She watched him, quiet.

 

He shrugged.  “Everybody’s got a story like that.”

 

“I guess,” Anna said.  She looked away, turning her attention back to Edgar.

 

Curtis watched her, fascinated.  She seemed so much lighter when she interacted with Edgar.  He felt like he could glimpse what she might have been like before the train.  

 

She glanced over at him.  “Mai’s having a rough time,” she said, referring to her pregnant bunkmate.  “She needs the extra space.”

 

“You’re welcome here,” he said.

 

She frowned at him, as if to say she already knew that.  He wondered if he should feel ashamed about being so transparent, but he didn’t really give a shit.  He wanted her.  However he could have her.  He didn’t feel any need to pretend otherwise.  

 

He looked at the foot of the bunk and realized she moved all of her meager possessions in.  It wasn’t much.  An extra shirt and a little jacket that was currently far too big for Edgar.

 

* * *

 

It was shocking to Curtis how easily they fell into a pattern.  Anna and Edgar slept in his bunk.  Curtis supposed that, anymore, it wasn’t  _ his _ bunk.  It was their bunk.  Collective.  He and Anna found time alone - never as much as he would like, but enough.  Always at Anna’s discretion.  They ran out of rubbers quickly, so they had to be a lot more careful.  A lot more hands and mouths.  Though, sometimes she let him.

 

He worried, at first, that he was one of Anna’s many lovers.  The casualness with which their involvement started didn’t speak to a deep connection between them.  Or to monogamy.  He figured she grabbed lovers as her whims took her.

 

Curtis knew better than to try and get any kind of a commitment out of Anna.  The surest way to make her angry was to do anything that would make her feel trapped.  She was much easier to live with when she thought it was her idea.  So he tried to keep his mouth shut and enjoy the ride.  

 

He watched her, as time passed, and saw how she avoided other men.  She greeted them with even more hostility she’d initially shown him.  She didn’t trust easily, which he supposed, was a good survival technique.  He also eventually decided that he was her only lover.  And he discovered, rather by accident, that she was viciously possessive.

 

He was coming off a shift and the girl grabbed him.  She was out of her mind on something, kronole most likely, it was becoming a lot more common.  She was pawing at him, trying to give him sloppy kisses.  Curtis was not interested at all, and was trying to extricate himself as quickly as possible without hurting the girl.  Anna didn’t have any such compunctions.  She knocked out two of the girl’s teeth and then kicked her as she lay on the floor.  Curtis stood there, in shock, until Anna grabbed his arm and dragged him back to the bunk.  The sex was mind blowing.  

 

* * *

 

Curtis was crouched against the wall, just outside of Gilliam’s space, filing down steel fittings with a bent rasp.  It was a shit job.  Because he’d pissed McGregor off by being late for his shift last week.  It was fine.  Curtis was happy to pay the price.  If he had to choose between making Anna come and making McGregor's quota, he’d choose Anna every time.  Even if it meant being assigned every shit job McGregor could dole out for the next two weeks.

 

Curtis had been at work for hours when Edgar toddled over to him and took a seat.  Curtis glanced around.  He had no idea who was supposed to be in charge of Edgar right now, but clearly he’d wandered away, which he had a tendency to do.  It was true that there were only so many places he could go.  But it was still dangerous.

 

Curtis took a break and split his protein block with Edgar.  Then the little boy yawned and Curtis made a space for him between where Curtis was crouched and the outer wall.  Edgar was asleep almost instantly and Curtis covered him with his jacket.

 

It was probably half an hour later that Curtis heard the noise.  A riot.  They weren’t exactly rare these days.  And he had no desire to get involved.  From the sound of it, it was in the most forward compartment.  Curtis concentrated on his work.  It was tough going, hard work.  He shrugged out of another layer of clothes, leaving him in a stained t-shirt.  He piled the other layers around Edgar, so nobody would try and snatch them when he wasn’t looking.

 

A few minutes later, a group of Wilford’s soldiers walked through the car.  They looked Curtis over, but quickly moved on.  He watched them as they left, wondering what the hell they were doing.  What more did the tail have that they needed?  They’d already taken everything of value.

 

Shaking his head, Curtis went back to work.  He was concentrating on what he was doing, but a scraping sound caught his attention and he turned his head, looking at Anna.  His breath immediately caught.  She was deathly pale, tears on her cheeks.

 

“What?” he asked, scared.  Was she hurt?

 

She shook her head, stepping closer to him.  “The soldiers,” she said.  “They took them.”

 

“Took who?” Curtis asked, rising to his feet, cupping her elbows in his hands.

 

Anna looked up at him, but he had the impression she wasn’t really seeing him.  “The kids,” she said.  “The little ones.  They took them.”  She shook her head again.  “Edgar,” she said, and then a harsh sob tore its way out of her throat.  “Edgar’s - “

 

Curtis shook his head.  “He’s fine.  He’s here.  He’s with me.”

 

Anna blinked up at him.  “What?”

 

He moved aside and showed her, Edgar, asleep, wedged against the wall.  She covered her mouth with her hands and sobbed.  Curtis pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her.  She let him, burrowing against him.

 

She finally pulled away, wiping at her tears, embarrassed.  Curtis put his tools away and stowed everything in Gilliam’s space.  McGregor could be pissed at him, but right now, he had to take care of things with Anna.

 

He scooped Edgar, still asleep, into his arms and pulled Anna along, back to their bunk.  People looked at him, at Edgar, as he passed.  The woman, Kim, the one who had two children just slightly older and younger than Edgar was sitting on her bunk, in shock, alone.  Curtis kept moving.  There wasn’t anything he could do for her.

 

He urged Anna into the bunk first, so she was closest to the far wall.  Then he settled Edgar against her and climbed in himself.  He pulled the curtain shut.  Anna had cuddled Edgar close and Curtis wrapped his arms around both of them, holding them.

 

It was an illusion and he knew it.  If the soldiers came back and found Edgar, there wouldn’t be anything either he or Anna could do to stop them.  But for now, this was enough, the three of them huddled together in the dim dark.

 

How many families were ripped apart today?  How many lives were shattered?

 

Edgar finally woke, his usual happy, chirpy self.  Curtis and Anna played with him for a while, but eventually they pulled back the curtain and resumed their lives as much as possible.  Anna had Edgar in the sling, literally tied to her body.  Curtis suspected she’d be like that for the next couple of days, not letting Edgar out of her sight.  

 

Curtis looked around as he made his way back to the tail.  There were a few other kids, hiding in the shadows, so some other parents had managed to keep their children out of Wilford’s clutches.

 

* * *

 

It was late when Curtis finally made his way back to the bunk.  He’d finished up the entire job, hoping that it would get him off McGregor’s shitlist.  Anna and Edgar were already in the bunk.  Edgar was wedged tightly against the far wall and Anna had covered him with the blanket so only his nose was sticking out.  Curtis had no idea how Edgar could sleep like that, but he knew from experience that the kid would sleep through anything.

 

Curtis shrugged out of his jacket and two button up shirts, leaving him in only his t-shirt and trousers as he climbed up.  He removed his shoes, setting them at the end of the bunk.

 

As Curtis curled up against Anna’s back, she made a soft noise and pushed back against him.  He took it for the invitation it was and pressed closer.  He nuzzled against her neck, kissing her.  His hands roamed over her body.  She was wearing an oversized t-shirt with nothing underneath.

 

She reached back, fumbling with the fly of Curtis’s trousers.  He took the hint, unzipping and working the material down his hips.  Anna found him, stroking him firmly.  His breath came fast and he pushed his face against her neck, trying to be quiet.  He rucked up the nightshirt and touched her lightly.  She was already wet and rocked against his fingers as soon as he touched her.  

 

She released him and he pulled her leg back, over his and slid into her.  She bit down on her lip, her back arching as he rocked into her.  They were slow, moving in time to the rhythm of the train.  Her fingers were there, pleasuring herself and he knew she was close.  He felt it start, heard her breath catch.  He kept moving, gritting his teeth, holding off.  She finally sighed and went limp.  He started to pull out, intending to finish himself off with his hand, but she caught his hip and urged him against her.

 

“Don’t play,” he whispered.  “I’m close.”

 

“I know,” she said.  “It’s okay.”

 

Curtis didn’t know what that meant, but he wasn’t really inclined to worry at the moment.  He rocked into her again and again, pressing harder as he found his own release.

 

Later, they lay there in the darkness together.  She rolled over, so she was facing him and kissed him gently.  “Are you mine, Curtis?” she asked.

 

He nodded, feeling slightly ridiculous.  Of course he was hers.  Everyone knew that.  But Anna still seemed pleased.  She curled up against him, twining her fingers through his.

 

“I love you,” she whispered.

 

Curtis held her tighter, wishing like hell that the world outside the bunk would go away.

 

END STORY


End file.
